


Star-Crossed

by magisterpavus



Series: How To Train Your Galra [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aliens, Angst, Bad Puns, Betrayal, Coma, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Dubious Science, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Galra Keith (Voltron), Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mating Bond, Mind Meld, Miscommunication, also keith doesn't know how to boyfriend, and lance yells at him in spanish, but i try, sorry in advance i'm a gringa, the worst puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7848832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He buried his face in the pillow. Fuck. Lance had literally just said he hated him. And Lance had said that before, but not with that twisted, furious expression, not like he actually <em>meant</em> it.</p><p>And Keith <em>loved him.</em></p><p>“Fuck my life,” he mumbled into the pillow, resolving to lay there for a very, very long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star-Crossed

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh yes, the promised Klangst sequel to Bonding Time is here. suffer with me :D
> 
> There's some Spanish phrases in this fic that are translated in the end notes. I live in Arizona, so I am more used to Mexican Spanish, and I went to Peru over the summer and learned all kinds of Peruvian slang, but I like the Cuban Lance hc so I tried my best. Cuban swearing is...honestly incredible. Please just look it up. They have some absolutely filthy phrases, the ones I used are pretty vanilla haha. I'm also a white af gringa so if you see grammar errors let me know thanks. 3 years of Spanish didn't prepare me for this, lol.

Honestly, Keith didn’t even remember what had started the fight. 

Something stupid, probably, a joke gone too far or an innocent comment turned sour, but whatever it was, it ended in both of them shouting vicious insults and storming out of rooms and shoving each other and then Lance threw a weak punch and Keith tackled him and that was how Keith ended up face-first against the wall with Shiro holding him there firmly, one arm twisted behind Keith’s back, cold metal gripping his wrist. 

Somewhere along the line Keith’s Galra side had joined the fray, so his claws scratched at Shiro’s arm and his ears pinned back furiously when he heard Lance continuing to yell at him even though Hunk had grabbed him. Keith didn’t even know what he was _saying_ , but it made him snarl and buck against Shiro, scrabbling at the wall and Shiro’s metal hand.

“¡Eres comepinga! Pencatazo! Pelea conmigo! Aquí y ahora. ¡¡Vamos!!” 

“Fuck you!” Keith spat, twisting around to try to catch a glimpse of him. “Shiro, get the fuck off of me –”

“Not until you control yourself,” Shiro growled. “You almost took Lance’s eye out!”

“Good!” Keith snapped. “He’s an asshole!”

Lance released another string of scathing Spanish and there was a loud _thump_. “Ow, Princess –”

“Do not call Keith that,” Allura scolded. “Or I might tell Shiro to just let him bite your head off.”

Lance spluttered. “Since when do you know Spanish – _ow_ , carajo, okay, okay, Mamá!” Allura smacked him again.

Keith was silently seething against the wall. Shiro nudged his hip. “Are you going to try to maul Lance again, or can I let you go?”

Keith glared at him over his shoulder. “Depends whether he provokes me or not.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Lance has been known to provoke you simply by breathing, Keith.”

Keith tried to focus on his own breathing, in and out, and slowly his claws and teeth receded. His ears remained and his skin was still splotching purple but Shiro seemed satisfied and let him go. Keith turned, forcing his fists to uncurl. Lance was glaring at him, red in the face from shouting, arms covered in thin red claw marks. Keith sniffed, straightening up and smoothing his hair back. 

“You done, idiota?” Keith asked, folding his arms and taking a step forward.

Lance’s eyes narrowed. “I hate you,” he snapped. “Get away from me.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Keith said before he could stop himself.

“Keith!” Shiro and Allura exclaimed with equal disapproval. Pidge sighed. Hunk gave Keith a pleading look over the top of Lance’s head. Lance made a sound of outrage and tried to get at him again.

Coran said nervously, “Perhaps it would be best to talk it out, civilly –”

“I’m not talking to him!” Lance and Keith said at the same time. 

Coran twiddled his mustache nervously. “Er…alright, but…well, by my calculations, Keith’s next heat begins in twenty cycles, so you’d best make up by then –”

“You’ve been _tracking_ my heats?!” Keith cried, outraged, baring his sharp teeth. Coran blanched.

“He can go fuck a cactus for all I care!” Lance said with feeling. 

Hunk winced. “C’mon, Lance, you don’t really mean that –”

Lance scowled. “Yeah, I do!” He looked at Keith, shaking his head. “I never asked for this! I’m out!”

Pidge eyed them worriedly. “Lance, Galra mate for life –”

“I’m not a Galra!” Lance retorted, throwing up his hands. “I’m not a Galra and I don’t want any part of you or your Galra shit, Keith!” With that, he elbowed Hunk and stomped off down the hall, back to his own room.

Keith took another step forward. Shiro caught his arm. His claws were coming out again, but not out of anger – something like a sob was caught in his throat. Shiro seemed to realize his lack of aggression and squeezed lightly before releasing him. 

“Lance, wait!” Allura called. “Coran is right, you must make amends before –”

Lance paused, and turned, mouth twisted. “I’m gonna figure out how to reverse this mate thing and you can’t stop me,” he snapped. “I’m tired of being your damn Galra sex toy, Keith. Find someone else to use, because I’m done.” He went into his room and slammed the door. 

“Wow, he is _mad_ ,” Hunk said worriedly. He glanced at Keith, brow lowering. “What did you do to him?”

Keith stumbled back, away from them, shaking his head. “I didn’t – I don’t know!”

“Lance is just throwing a pissy fit,” Pidge said matter-of-factly. “Or he better be, anyway, otherwise we have a future Galra blood fever on our hands.”

Keith paled and Shiro reached out to him. “Keith, that’s not going to happen, it’s going to be alright –”

But Keith whirled on him, and for one of the few times in his life he saw Shiro flinch back, involuntary response to Keith’s claws and eyes and ears and teeth and rapidly purpling skin. _That_ didn’t improve his mood at all. Keith knew this was going to happen eventually – it was only a matter of time before Lance gave up on him, and now he had and the others would soon follow suit. A Galra paladin…it was like the start to a bad joke. He didn’t belong here, and he smelled their fear, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. He was the enemy, after all.

“I should go,” Keith said, trembling. “I. I’m sorry.”

*

He contemplated taking one of the escape pods but knew that would only upset the situation further. So instead he locked himself in his room, curled in his bed in a miserable purple ball, for once utterly unable to will his Galra features away. 

The entire room still smelled like Lance and it reminded him of his first heat, when he had pined pathetically for his accidental mate, not knowing that Lance was equally in pain in his own room. Keith wondered if Lance was missing him now and realized, gloomily, that he’d probably long since rejoined the others, social butterfly that he was. 

Maybe he was talking to them about Keith right now; about how it was Keith’s fault they were in this mess in the first place, about how much of a monster he really was behind closed doors. It had been six months since that first heat, and Lance had been with him for three others, and maybe Keith didn’t act quite like himself during those times, but he’d always tried his best to hold onto his human side even then. And maybe they hadn’t exactly had time to do all those “couple things” Lance had wanted to, but that was Zarkon’s fault, not Keith’s! 

Keith didn’t know how to do couple things anyway.

He shuddered, hugging a pillow to his chest and hearing fabric tear. Had he really _used_ Lance? Was that how Lance saw it? Keith always tried to put Lance’s pleasure first, and his Galra side was happy to do so, because Lance was his mate, and he had to make his mate feel good, feel safe, feel loved.

Keith froze. Loved? Oh, no. 

_Loved._

He buried his face in the pillow. Fuck. Lance had literally just said he hated him. And Lance had said that before, but not with that twisted, furious expression, not like he actually _meant_ it. 

And Keith _loved him._

“Fuck my life,” he mumbled into the pillow, resolving to lay there for a very, very long time.

*

Just as Keith had expected, Lance was as talkative and peppy as ever, just not with him. No, Lance ignored him spectacularly, along with occasional snide comments that could only be about Keith. Keith, for once, didn’t try to fight back. He didn’t want to hurt Lance more than he apparently already had. 

It wasn’t like the others all sided with Lance – they tried to talk to Keith from time to time, mostly, he suspected, to check up on him, but Keith brushed them all off politely, except Shiro. Shiro was persistent, and Keith couldn’t seem to shake him. He even followed Keith to the training area to bother him, and after one sparring session with a record time of thirteen and a half minutes, Shiro pinned him to the mat and said, “I’m disappointed.”

Keith glowered at him. “I almost won,” he retorted.

“No, I let you,” Shiro said. “Your form is sloppy. You’re distracted, and you look like you haven’t slept in ages. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at Lance like a lost puppy.”

“What do you want me to say?” Keith bit out. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. He hates me.”

“You remember the last time you thought he hated you?” Shiro countered. 

Keith frowned. “That is not – he actually said it this time, you heard him. He doesn’t want me, and I don’t blame him. Who would?” He shoved at Shiro’s chest. “Let me up.”

“No, you’re just going to run back to your room if I do,” Shiro pointed out dryly. Keith flushed, because he was right, but where else was he supposed to hide? Shiro sighed, easing his grip. “Keith, you’re not some repulsive creature, okay? Lance wouldn’t have stayed with you this long if you were.”

Keith stared up at him desperately. “He stayed with me this long because he didn’t have a choice!” he retorted. “Shiro, you heard what he said. He doesn’t want anything to do with this, to do with _me_.” His Galra ears drooped. “And he’s not the only one. Everyone looks at me like some kind of ticking time bomb, like any day now I’m going to turn on them and –”

“Keith,” Shiro murmured. “I’m not going to let that happen, alright?”

“But Lance won’t even talk to me, much less –”

“I’ll talk to him,” Shiro said. “And…and if Lance still refuses...” He bit his lip, looking down at Keith resolutely. “Then I’ll help you.”

Keith’s eyes widened. “I – no, Shiro, I can’t put you in that position, you don’t want –”

“Like I said,” Shiro said firmly, “I’m not going to let it get to the blood fever stage, no matter what. I promise. I won’t let you go through that.”

Keith swallowed. “O-okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”

A loud sound in the hallway startled them both, and when Keith looked, Lance was standing there, flushed and staring at them, and had dropped the book he was carrying. 

Keith realized what it looked like. Shiro was still on top of him and their faces were angled close together. _Shit_. “Lance –” Shiro started.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” Lance snapped. “By all means, carry on.” He snatched up his book and stalked off back the way he’d come. 

Keith groaned and threw a hand over his face. “Great. Now he thinks I’m a puta, too.”

Shiro sighed and moved off of him, offering him a hand. “I’ll talk to him, Keith.” Keith took his hand, eyes downcast. Shiro touched his face. “Hey. You’re going purple again.”

Keith cringed. “I’m sorry, I –”

Shiro shook his head. “Stop apologizing. None of this is your fault.”

Keith frowned. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m half-monster.”

Shiro’s gaze hardened. “No,” he said. “Keith, I know monsters. And you aren’t one of them.” He stepped back. “Just because you might look like one doesn’t mean anything. There are evil humans, aren’t there?” Keith nodded hesitantly. “Right, so, there are good Galras too.”

Keith folded his arms. “Well, they’re pretty damn rare, then.”

“There’s a whole universe out there,” Shiro replied. “I’m sure you’re not the only one, Keith.”

Keith considered that. “I hope so,” he mumbled. He glanced up. “Thanks, Shiro. For…for everything.”

“Of course.” Shiro turned to go, pausing halfway across the arena. “Now please get some sleep.”

*

It had been thirteen cycles since the fight, and although Shiro had tried to talk to Lance, Keith doubted he’d made much progress since Lance was still ignoring him and, apparently, researching how to sever Galra mate ties. Keith found the files open on one of Pidge’s laptops in the commons area, and stared in dismay at the screen. 

“Oh,” Pidge said guiltily from behind him. 

Keith half-turned. “You…you’re helping him with this?”

Pidge sighed. “Not really. I just let him use my database. I did try to talk him out of it, Keith. But you know him. Stubborn.”

Keith peered at the screen again. “So…has he…found anything?”

Pidge sat down in front of the laptop. “Honestly? No, except for killing one of you.”

“ _What_?!” Keith snapped. “Should I be worried about him shanking me in my sleep?”

Pidge grimaced. “No,” they said. “The death of one mate is, uh…not ideal. Usually results in permanent emotional or psychological damage in the surviving mate, for one thing. For another, I don’t think he’s quite at the murder stage.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Keith muttered. “Okay…anything else?”

Pidge bit their lip, scrolling through. “Well…the Galra heat itself is kind of fascinating. Galra sex hormones are so strong that they cause dangerous imbalances in the brain and the body, which is what can lead to the blood fever – the excess hormones create so much stress that eventually the brain just shuts down and reverts to primal instinct in order to survive, leading to a complete lack of self-control and an inclination towards violent behavior –”

“Pidge,” Keith growled. “Not helping.”

Pidge coughed. “Er, right, sorry. Anyway…the whole mating thing is even more interesting. When mating occurs, a hormone called philotocin unique to Galras is released in both partners. It’s kind of like oxytocin, but ten times stronger.” Keith looked at them blankly. Pidge huffed. “Oxytocin is basically the human cuddle hormone. Trust, social bonds, reduced anxiety, feelings of security and contentment, afterglow, all that. Philotocin is like that, but more concentrated, to the point where a kind of telepathic bond is formed between mates.”

“A _what_?”

“Like the mind-meld in the Lions, just more focused on shared emotions than thoughts. That’s why you and Lance are all over each other during your heats – philotocin peaks then, causing both of you to feel depressed whenever you’re apart. Unfortunately it also magnifies the negative emotions, which is why you guys almost killed each other when you got into a fight.” Pidge scanned the page, which was covered in confusing scientific jargon. “And that’s why the ‘kill one mate’ thing would suck. It would literally be like losing half of yourself. Philotocin doesn’t do well on its own and can incite a sort of blood fever of its own upon the death of the other mate. Think Achilles after Patroclus died. Not good.”

Keith furrowed his brow. “So…basically, the only way to un-mate is to get rid of the philotocin?”

Pidge snorted. “You can’t just get rid of a hormone, Keith. Suppress it, maybe, but we don’t know what side-effects that could have. Suppressing normal testosterone can be risky enough; I don’t even want to think about what trying to suppress a super-strong alien hormone could do.”

“But let me guess, Lance is still going to try,” Keith sighed. 

Pidge frowned. “I don’t think he’s actually serious about this, Keith. He’s just…going through a rough patch. He’s kind of freaking out about this whole thing.”

“And you think I’m not?!” Keith retorted. “If he would just _talk_ to me, maybe I could help!”

“Lance is as bad at dealing with his feelings as you are,” Pidge said, rolling their eyes. “Just wait it out. I don’t think that he’d endanger the rest of us by ignoring you when you’re in heat.” But Pidge didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Pidge,” Keith muttered. “I’m not – you and the rest of the team aren’t in danger from me, okay? Even if Lance does ignore me, I have, um, a safeguard in place.”

Pidge blinked. “It’s Shiro, isn’t it.” Keith opened his mouth, then closed it. “Ha. Knew it. Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, because one accidental mate is bad enough.”

“I’m not going to _mate_ Shiro – !”

Shiro cleared his throat from the doorway. Keith willed himself to die. 

“Oh, hey Shiro,” Pidge said, casually closing the laptop. “What’s up?”

“Allura’s receiving transmissions from a cargo ship in the next system. They were sending out distress beacons and apparently they’re in pretty bad shape. Their engines are crippled so they can’t land on the nearby planet.” Shiro paused. “And there’s another thing…they’re Sylphaen. And the pilot says she knows you, Keith.” 

“What? How?” Keith had no idea what Sylphaen pilot could possibly know him.

Shiro shrugged, gesturing for him to follow. “C’mon, she wanted to talk to you. I think her name is Silese?”

“Silese? But she’s…the Empress’s daughter. Her half-Galra daughter.” Keith frowned, going with Shiro, Pidge close on their heels. “What’s she doing piloting a ship this far out?”

“She’s half-Galra?” Shiro asked, confused. “Hm. She never mentioned that, though she did say something about gathering data from an abandoned waystation on one of the planet’s moons. Sounds like they broke down before they could reach it, though.”

“Maybe we could investigate that data for ourselves,” Pidge piped up. “The Sylphe are our allies, we can help each other out.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t object,” Shiro said as they rounded the corner to the control room. “They were ecstatic that we’d found them, and you know how much value Sylphe place on hospitality.”

“Right,” Keith muttered. He didn’t exactly have fond memories of Sylphaen hospitality.

“Oh, good, you found him!” Allura greeted. “Silese, the Red Paladin is here. You said you wished to speak with him?”

“God knows why,” Lance muttered audibly from the corner where he and Hunk were eating green goop sandwiches. 

“Lance,” Shiro said, warningly. Lance glared at the two of them but shut his mouth and went back to eating his sandwich, ears pink.

Keith stepped up to Allura’s console, where Silese’s face was broadcasted on the screen. Her Galra features were gone, and she seemed surprised to see his so blatantly on display. “Paladin,” she said, voice strange and tinny over the comms. “It is a pleasant surprise to see you again. My mother sends her regards.”

Keith forced a smile. “Thank you, Silese. I didn’t expect to see you off of Everren – you’re here to gather Galra intel?”

“Yes,” Silese said, and there was something odd in her voice, something that made the hair on the back of Keith’s neck prickle. “But our main engine malfunctioned on the way; we barely managed to make it here in one piece.” She sighed, shaking her head. “But your friends know this already. I wished to speak with you personally – to extend an invitation to you. I admit I have, ah, dramatized you a bit, and my sisters are terribly eager to meet you. We meet so few fellow half-Galra, you see, and never a half-human Galra.”

“Oh,” Keith said, startled. “Um, well…I…I’m flattered…” He glanced at Shiro, who shrugged. “Your sisters are your crew?”

“Of course,” Silese replied, and for a moment she went out of frame, calling out in Sylphaen to someone. The next second, a slightly younger woman bobbed into the screen, skin a shade lighter than Silese’s and hair long and straight. She had Galra ears, too, fluffy and too-large for her round face. “This is Yevella,” Silese said. “Our navigator. She couldn’t stop talking about the mysterious Red Paladin for weeks after you left!”

Keith flushed. Yevella shoved Silese lightly. “Hey! You know that Amarille is even more obsessed than I am! N-not that I’m obsessed with you!” Yevella quickly added. “I’m not! You just have very pretty eyes!”

Allura was smiling at the screen. She nodded to Keith. “Well, I don’t see the harm in it. Although perhaps we should send Lance along in case you get swarmed with the Sylphaen princesses, hm?”

Before Lance could protest (he got as far as leaping to his feet and opening his mouth), Yevella squealed. “Oh, yes! Is that the Red Paladin’s mate? We would love to meet him, too! A human with a Galra mate…he must be a very durable human!” 

Shiro snorted and tried to cover it up with a cough. Keith turned red.

Lance puffed out his chest a little. “Well,” he said, “I _guess_ I could grace you all with my presence.”

Keith tried not to scowl too noticeably. He wasn’t jealous. Not at all. Allura was right, Keith was the one they were going to be all over, not Lance. They better not be all over Lance, anyway.

Yevella clapped her hands. “Ooh, this is so exciting!” She bit her lip. “But, um…well, I don’t know if this would be too much to ask, but…” She looked at Silese, conflicted. 

Silese smiled at her, and then at them. “I believe my sister is trying to beg you two to show off your Lions,” she explained. “Of course you are not obliged to do so, they are very precious to you and we completely understand if –”

“Oh, we can bring ‘em,” Lance cut in. “But I’ve gotta warn you ladies, Blue is way better than Red.”

Shiro sighed. “Lance, I’m not sure using the Lions to impress girls is a good idea –”

“Oh, no, I think it’s a _great idea_ ,” Keith hissed, gaze fixed on Lance. He was gratified by the way Lance flinched slightly at the vitriol in his voice. “Why not? Red has been dying to teach Blue a lesson for a while now.”

Allura cleared her throat, glaring at both Keith and Lance before turning back to the screen with a sweet smile. “I believe we could send the Red and Blue Paladins with their Lions for a _brief_ visit while our Green Paladin assists you in making repairs.”

Pidge rolled their eyes. “Great, so basically I’m the only one with a real job here.” 

Silese smiled. “We appreciate your generosity, Princess Allura. We are greatly indebted to you.” She inclined her head. “Please, if possible, make haste, and we will receive your paladins and Lions in our cargo bay.”

Just then, there was a loud, cut-off shout from off-screen, and for a moment both women’s eyes went wide in panic, darting towards the source of the noise. 

Allura stepped forward hastily. “What was that?! Are you alright?”

Yevella had gone pale, her ears pinned back against her head. Keith stared at her, confused – she looked terrified. Silese shook herself and smiled thinly. “Yes, Princess, thank you…I’m afraid one of my more daring sisters attempted to fix the problem and simply made it worse. Karys, are you alright?”

There was a long pause, then a feminine voice called back, slightly strained, “Yes, Silese! Just dropped a regulator on my foot...”

Silese gave them an apologetic look. “As I said…make haste. Thank you again.” The screen went abruptly black.

Allura furrowed her brow at it. “They do seem to be in quite a mess. I’ll chart a course to them at once.”

“Are we seriously letting Keith and Lance aboard a ship full of fan girls?” Pidge asked. 

“I wish I had a ship full of fan girls,” Hunk said glumly.

“They’re just curious to meet us,” Keith sighed. “Sylphaen or not, they are royalty and I doubt they would try to do anything inappropriate –”

“Oh, I bet they would, with some persuasion,” Lance said, wiggling his eyebrows, and Keith literally _growled_. Loudly. Everyone in the room heard it. Even Shiro turned faintly pink. Lance stared at him, eyes narrowing. “On second thought, they _definitely_ will. And if you go full-Galra and attack them because you’re a jealous asshole who can’t control himself, then that’s your fault, buddy, not mine.” 

Keith sneered, even though Lance’s words stung painfully. “You think they’ll even want to go near you? I’m the half-Galra, I’m the one with the irresistible pheromones, and I’m going into heat in a week. They don’t want you – scrawny, that’s what Empress Velline called you –”

Lance bristled. “Shut the fuck up –”

“Galras can have multiple mates, you know,” Keith continued, baring his teeth. “I’m thinking of getting a better one –”

“Cállate!” Lance snapped furiously. “You don’t even like girls!”

“Human girls,” Keith corrected coldly. “Half-Galra girls might be _just my type_.” 

(They were not, but Keith wanted Lance to be as jealous as he was.)

Lance blanched and reeled backwards as if Keith had physically struck him. “I never thought _you_ would be that kind of guy,” he retorted, voice unsteady.  


“What kind of guy?” Keith said. “Like you? Flirting with everyone who has a pulse?” He folded his arms. “No, Lance, I’m not like you. I actually get laid.”  


Lance’s jaw dropped. 

Hunk gasped. “Keith! Not cool, bro!” Shiro gave Keith a pointed look of disapproval. Pidge threw up their arms and left the room. Allura and Coran watched the whole display with similarly fascinated-slash-horrified expressions.

Lance was trembling, and his face was flushed, and Keith knew even before scenting him that he’d gone too far. But then he did, and the wave of Lance’s _hurt_ , sharp and bitter in the air, washed over him. _Shit._ He stepped forward hastily, reaching out to him. “Lance, I didn’t mean –”

“I know what you meant,” Lance hissed. “You’re a real jerk, bat boy, you know that? No wonder you never had a boyfriend, nobody could stand being with you for more than one night.”

Pidge whistled lowly from somewhere in the hall. Keith flinched, but took another step towards Lance. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I never meant to hurt you, Lance.” He made as if to touch Lance’s shoulder.

“¡Déjame en paz!” Lance cried, stumbling back, and then, softer, looking away, “Don’t touch me.”

Keith jerked back as if burned. Lance kept himself turned away, shoulders shivering and Hunk hovering unsurely at his side. There was an awkward silence. 

Then Allura clapped her hands and said, “Well! We should reach the Sylphaen ship soon. You two should get your Lions ready, and Pidge, Coran can show you what tools we have available to help with repairs. Keith, please do not attack the Sylphaens. Lance, please do not give him a reason to. And both of you – please resolve your drama before it interferes with the team.”

“The team,” Lance mocked, brushing Hunk off. “Yeah, well, what if I don’t wanna be a part of the team anymore?”

Allura furrowed her brow. “Lance, as you know, that is not an option. You have already made the decision to –”

“Made the decision?!” Lance exclaimed. “No! I didn’t! Blue chose me whether I liked it or not! Nobody asked me if I was okay with spending who knows how long in space, millions of light years away from Earth, away from my _family_! Just like nobody asked me if I wanted to mate for life with Keith! _It just happened_! Is it wrong for me to want some control over my own goddamn life?!”

Allura opened her mouth but Lance cut her off. “Yeah, yeah, you’re gonna say something about how we’re saving the universe, it’s for the greater good, all that. But you know what? I haven’t seen my little sister in almost a year. She was three. Who knows how old she’s gonna be by the time I get back, _if_ I get back? Thirteen? Thirty? Three hundred?!”

“Lance,” Hunk mumbled, “I don’t think Interstellar is totally accurate…”

But Lance was inconsolable. He was so upset that Keith was starting to get a lump in his throat, too, and had the alarming urge to hug Lance as tightly as he could and never let go. However, Keith valued his life, so he did not do that.

“I think this whole Voltron thing is as cool as the next guy, but I’m kind of starting to hate space!” Lance continued. “Do you know how long it’s been since I went swimming? I don’t even remember the last time I saw the ocean! Or, or felt rain, or snow, or saw lightning, or saw the Sun – so shoot me if I’m not totally thrilled about being here!”

“Lance, we’re all a little homesick,” Shiro told him wearily. “I know all about being far away from home for a long time. It’s not ideal. But in the meantime, we all need to stick together, to get through this, together. And as much as you don’t like the ‘greater good’ talk, it’s true. What we’re doing here is to protect everyone, including the people we left behind, like your little sister. And I know you didn’t choose this, but Lance, sometimes that’s just how life works out.” Shiro sighed. “I certainly didn’t choose to get kidnapped by Zarkon, thrown into a gladiatorial ring, and get my arm chopped off and replaced with Galra machinery. But that’s what happened. I think what happened to you isn’t half bad, in comparison.”

It was the closest Shiro had ever come to yelling at Lance. Lance looked properly chagrined. “Well, when you put it like that,” he muttered. But he was still upset; Keith could feel it, a twisting in his own gut, an ache in his own chest. “Right, then. I’ll see myself out.” And he slunk out of the room, head held low. 

When he was gone, Shiro frowned, worried. “Was that too harsh?”

“Harsh?” Allura blinked, confused. “It was the truth. Lance needed to hear it. At least his home still exists.”

“He still has a right to miss Earth,” Keith said, biting his lip. “To miss his family.”

Hunk gave him a surprised look. 

Keith ignored it and went to grab his jacket and give Red a pep talk about how much better she was than Blue. But his heart wasn’t really in it.

*

They reached the stranded ship an hour later, and it had been decided that Pidge would board the ship shortly after Lance and Keith did, because they were still working with Coran on a solution to the ship’s fried engine. 

“Maybe you can actually make yourselves useful and give me more details while you’re on the ship, in between flirting,” Pidge had said grumpily, after forcing Lance to take a homemade wrist comm they had constructed from a broken watch. “Just press the button until it turns green and speak into it – that should be simple enough even for you.”

Watch or not, Keith really doubted Lance would take the time to explore the engine room, and he wasn’t about to let Lance out of his sight anyway; so he mentally apologized to Pidge in advance as Red and Blue headed for the ship, surreptitiously circling and spiraling around each other. Red was humming with energy, and zipped ahead in the lead with ease, Blue close on her tail. Over the comms, Lance jeered, “Yours is smaller than mine.”

Red bristled. She was sensitive about her size. Keith rolled his eyes and replied, “Actually, mine’s bigger, and you know it. You better not be this rude to the Sylphe.”

“You wound me,” Lance retorted. “All my rudeness is reserved for you, bat boy, and other people who deserve it.”

It almost would have sounded like flirting if not for the sour note in his voice. Remembering their earlier fight, Keith bit back a nasty retort and guided Red down to the opening cargo bay doors, which looked like a wide, dark maw in the side of the Sylphaen ship. The ship was maybe half the size of the Castle of Lions, with lines of greenish-blue lights along its side that blinked eerily as Keith landed Red in the bay. 

As soon as Red’s paws touched the floor she shuddered. Keith, frowning, leaned forward. “You okay?” he asked her, but she only shuddered again, violently, before going abruptly offline. Keith scowled. Now his Lion was ignoring him too. Great.

But when Blue landed next to him, Keith would have sworn she shuddered slightly too, though judging by the carefree way Lance hopped out of the cockpit he hadn’t noticed anything. Keith sighed, frowned one last time at Red’s controls, and followed him out. Predictably, Lance did not wait for him, and walked straight to Silese, who was waiting near the back of the cargo bay.

Halfway to her, Keith paused, nostrils flaring. There was something… _odd_ about her scent. His brow furrowed. Was she in heat? But…no, it was different, it lacked any warmth and sweetness, and instead smelled strangely _cold_ , which didn’t make such sense. Maybe she was ill? Keith couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and she smiled so brightly at them when they approached that he thought he must be imagining the off-putting scent altogether. 

Lance reached her first, bowing with a sly smile and taking her hand, pressing a kiss to it. Keith fumed several feet behind him. “Princesa,” Lance said. “You’re even lovelier in person.”

Silese chuckled, patting his wrist and raising her eyebrow at Keith. “Charming one you’ve got here. I see you don’t keep him on a very tight leash.”

Lance paused, shoulders stiffening. Keith tilted his head coolly. “He does not have a _leash_. He can kiss all the hands he likes.” Lance’s brow lowered and he turned towards Keith slightly before frowning and turning away again.

Silese inclined her head. “Considerate of you. But then again, you never struck me as inconsiderate towards your mate. The last time we met you were quite distressed about his well-being, as I remember.”

Lance was looking at him, still with that little frown. Keith shrugged. “It was a…distressing time.”

“I expect it was. But it seems you have made amends.” Silese bit her lip, seeming to hesitate, and then gestured for them to follow her. “Come, this way – my sisters have been eagerly awaiting you two. If we’re quiet, perhaps we can surprise them.”

Lance started after her eagerly, but Keith wavered. The scent was stronger. It was putting him on edge, and suddenly he was struck with the urge to get between Silese and Lance – but not in a jealous way, in a…a _protective_ way. Silese was saying something, going on about all her sisters, and it was then that it struck him – she was nervous. No. _Afraid._

Keith shook his head, trying to clear it. There were too many Galra scents, and they muddled his head. She wasn’t afraid – why would she be afraid? He and Lance were hardly threatening.

Silese pressed her hand to a touchpad beside the door leading to the main ship. The doors opened with a low, mechanical whir and a flashing green light. “After you,” she said, smiling, and as Lance sauntered through the doors Keith followed him unthinkingly, and it was only when he had crossed the threshold that he was struck by the wave of nauseating, roiling _guilt_ in Silese’s scent. Keith’s eyes widened and he spun on his heel, but it was too late, she closed the doors behind them and ordered in a shaky voice, “Lock bay door.” The green light above the door flashed red with a loud beep that made Lance turn too, eyes widening. 

Lance, confused, pounded on the door. “Hey! What are you doing?” 

“I am sorry,” Silese whispered, staring at them through the tinted glass, eyes wide with fear. “So sorry. But they gave us no other choice – it was my sisters’ lives or yours, paladins.”

Keith stared back at her furiously. “ _What did you do?!_ ”

But then he scented the air and knew, heart pounding as he turned to face the two Galra who had joined them in the room. It was some kind of storage area, large and mostly-empty. The two Galra stood at the opposite end, and Keith made a sound low in his throat, half-growl, half-whine. His hand flew to his bayard, and he moved in front of Lance instinctively.

Then a third Galra joined them, and Keith realized with dread that his bayard was practically useless.

Haggar sneered down at them from where she stood between the two soldiers on the steps leading up to the only other doors in the room, which had locked behind her, flashing red. Her dark cloak seemed to move with a life of its own as she stepped forward, yellow eyes full of contempt.

“A halfling and his human mate,” Haggar said in a mocking, sing-song voice. “How pathetic.”

Keith glared at her, Galra features coming back full-force, ears pinning back, claws sharpening, eyes narrowing, teeth baring ferociously. He snarled, moving in front of Lance again even as Lance tried to step forward.

“Growl at me all you like,” she sniffed, shaking her head. “It won’t protect you or him. It’s as useless as your sword, halfling.”

“But this isn’t useless, I bet,” Lance retorted, firing his bayard.

Time seemed to slow. The rifle’s laser was headed straight for Haggar…and then, suddenly, it wasn’t, and the room exploded with harsh violet light with Haggar at the center of it, energy spilling from her fingertips in deadly strands that shielded her from the blast. Lance swore and darted out from behind Keith to fire again, but then the violet light solidified where it touched him and twisted viciously around his waist and arms, yanking the bayard from his hands and suspending him high in the air, purple energy binding him firmly in place.

“Let me go, _suéltame_!” Lance shouted, kicking and twisting against the dark magic. Haggar flicked her wrist and he cried out in pain as his bonds sparked with crackling voltage. 

Keith felt it on his own skin, sudden sharp stings, an echo of Lance’s hurt. “Stop!” he ordered, desperation and fury filling him. 

But Haggar’s mouth twisted in sadistic delight and the sparking intensified, making Lance’s back arch and limbs jerk like a broken marionette. “Weak,” she hissed. “You thought you ever had a chance against Zarkon? Against the Empire? Against the Galra? No. We have ruled for ten thousand years and we will rule for ten thousand more – no halfling and his human could even hope to weaken our hold on the Universe, much less destroy it.”

“We aren’t alone,” Keith retorted, fighting to keep his voice steady as Lance cursed and jolted unnaturally above him. “We have Alteans, a genius engineer, and one of the kindest, loyalest people in existence. We have entire races united against you. We have your Champion. And we have Voltron. So I think we have a damn good chance of destroying you.”

Haggar laughed, and the sound was like glass shattering, discordant and dangerous. “Maybe so, halfling. But where are your friends now? Your Sylphaens turned against you as soon as the lives of their own were put at stake. It was too easy. We ambushed them at the waystation – not abandoned after all, I’m afraid.” 

She glanced up at Lance lazily, seemingly amused by his pain. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was trembling. “Then I did to Princess Silese’s sisters what I’m doing now to your mate. Ten Sylphe halflings, completely at my mercy, and I told her I would kill them all if she didn’t persuade you paladins to come to her aid and fall right into our trap. And so she did. She should be rewarded.” Haggar smiled. “Or perhaps I’ll kill them anyway. But first, I’ll dispose of you two.”

She released Lance with a _crack_ , and he fell limply to the ground with a dull thud that made Keith wince. For a terrifying moment he was still, but then he stirred weakly, groaning and curling inward as if he’d been punched in the stomach, mumbling something unintelligible. Keith started over to him at once, but Haggar looked at him sharply and then her magic was binding him, holding him in place where he stood in a twisting, electric cage. 

He struggled against it, slashing at the bars with his bayard, ignoring the shocks that went up his arms and legs and shouting Lance’s name. Keith watched helplessly as the two soldiers approached Lance with weapons drawn. They each held long spears in lieu of guns, and Keith’s gut twisted. With the guns, at least the wound was cauterized and quick. But this was not meant to be painless.

Haggar tilted her head. “They say that losing one’s mate is like being ripped in two. I am curious to see the results of this little experiment, aren’t you?”

Then Lance lifted his head. “You’re wrong,” he said, voice uneven but loud. “We aren’t alone.” Triumphantly, he held up his wrist, on which Pidge’s watch comm blinked a bright green; and no sooner had he said it, there was a crash from elsewhere on the ship and the sounds of lasers firing mixed with the roars of the Lions. Lance hadn’t been muttering in pain to himself at all – he’d been radioing Pidge and the others.

Haggar whirled towards the sound, her magic faltering, and Keith was able to make it two steps forward before she howled in rage and turned back, sending him flying backwards with a wave of force that knocked the breath right out of his chest and his bayard out of his hands. Keith lay on the floor for a few seconds, winded, and when he got to his feet again and picked up his bayard, Haggar had another cage ready for him, this one stronger than the first.

Shaking with the effort, Lance tried to heave himself up on his hands and knees, but Haggar blasted him with a vicious bolt of energy that sent him sprawling again. The two Galra soldiers flanked him, ready to keep him down. 

“Take care of them,” Haggar ordered, the cage around Keith holding even as she turned on her heel and stalked towards the doors she’d come from. “Deal with the human first. His death will leave the halfling weak and easy to kill.”

“It will be done,” the soldiers said in unison, and Haggar nodded before leaving to deal with the other paladins, the doors locking once more behind her. 

As if on cue, Lance leapt to his feet, uninjured and nimble as ever, lunging for the smaller Galra and wresting the spear from their hands, knocking them to the ground with a well-placed knee. Keith could have laughed, he was so relieved. Lance was alright; Lance was going to be alright –

And then he saw the other Galra move as if in slow motion, and he cried out a warning but it was too late, the larger soldier wrenched Lance off of the other one, throwing him to the ground, and drove the spear into his body.

Lance screamed.

Keith fell to his knees. 

For several awful seconds he was blinded by the pain; it was the only thing he was aware of, how much it _hurt_. He had been grazed in battles before and he had been beaten up pretty badly but that was nothing compared to this. It felt as if someone had shoved a red-hot fire poker into his stomach, ripping nerves and flesh and setting his blood aflame in excruciating pulses of heat. After the initial impact, the agonizing burn of it set in, and when Keith got to his feet his knees almost gave out from under him, head spinning, but he had to stand; he had to get to Lance, he had to get to his mate –

When Keith’s blurring vision finally sharpened, Lance was laying on the ground, motionless, the spear sticking out of his midsection. His head had lolled to the side, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, a red stain spreading slowly around where the spear was lodged in him. 

The Galra who had inflicted the blow stood over him, her yellow eyes wide. The other Galra, the one Lance had knocked down, got to his feet, sneering, and picked up his own spear.

Several things happened at once. 

One – Haggar’s cage sputtered out.

Two – the Galra soldier lifted his spear to deliver the killing blow.

Three – Keith was overcome with what could only be described as a blood fever.

Keith lunged forward with a sound that neither human nor Galra seemed capable of making, bayard raised and adrenaline coursing through him so powerfully that his vision spotted and he literally saw red, so overwhelmed with fury and pain and instinct that when his mind cleared, he was standing over the Galra’s body, panting, his bayard dripping dark blood and the Galra’s head lying several feet away.

The uncontrollable rage had left him, but the anger was still there, renewed as soon as his gaze fell upon Lance, in shock and bleeding out on the floor. Slowly, his gaze rose to the other Galra, who was backing away, her hands held up in front of her. The scent of her terror filled the room and Keith’s nostrils flared, reveling in it. She should be afraid. He was going to destroy her.

“I am sorry,” she told him, shaking her head. “It is wrong, to kill one’s mate, even a human –”

“Shut up.” Keith started towards her, blade dragging across the floor. 

“The wound may not be fatal, if you do not remove the spear,” she continued, eyes widening as her back hit the wall. “Please, I was just following orders! I have a mate too; he does not deserve this –”

Keith was in no mood for mercy. 

He stabbed his bayard savagely through her chest, parting armor and flesh alike, and she let out a low gasp before crumpling to the ground, sightless eyes staring blankly at her fallen comrade. Keith shuddered, bayard falling from his hands with a clatter. He put a hand to his own chest, trying to steady himself. He looked down at her. 

“No, _Lance_ doesn’t deserve this,” Keith whispered. “He doesn’t deserve any of this.”

Perhaps responding to his name, Lance made a thin sound of pain, and Keith started, grabbing his bayard and running to him. Lance blinked sluggishly when Keith reached his side, and made another soft, pained noise when Keith tried to move him, only managing to get Lance’s head into his lap.

“Hey,” Lance croaked, looking blearily up at him. “Hey, buddy.”

“Lance,” Keith said, helplessly. “You’re – I –”

“Yeah,” Lance mumbled. “Doesn’t even hurt much anymore.”

Keith gripped his shoulder as tightly as he dared. “No,” he snapped, “no, stay with me, don’t say stuff like that, you have a _spear sticking out of you!_ ”

Bizarrely, Lance laughed, though it sounded a bit choked and to Keith’s horror, a thin trickle of blood spilled from his lips. “It’s a lance,” he chuckled. “Get it? Lance got lanced. Ha, ha. Nice.”

Keith stared at him. “Are you – are you making puns on your deathbed?!”

Lance’s eyelids fluttered. “Of course,” he said, words slurring. He started to close his eyes. Keith smacked his face. “Ow! Carajo, even when I’m dying you’re being mean to me. Gimme a break, bat boy.”

“Lance,” Keith said again, trembling, and Lance’s eyes opened fully. Keith put his hand on Lance’s face again, not to hit him, but to hold him, and it was trembling too. He wanted to say so many things, but there was not enough time. So all he could say was, “Lance. I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“No,” Lance said, quiet. “Don’t be. I’m glad it was you. I’m glad that you – that you chose me, even if you didn’t really know what you were doing.” He swallowed. “ _I’m_ sorry, Keith.”

“For…for _what_?”

And then Lance smiled, small and sad, and Keith was going to remember the expression on his face for the rest of his life when he said, “For falling in love with you.”  


Keith stared at him, speechless.

Lance closed his eyes. “Yeah. Lame, right?” He bit his lip. “That’s why I’ve been all upset. Because – because I know that’s not what this is; all we do is fuck, and we’re friends, but we’re also kind of rivals, and the mate thing was accidental and you don’t even like being around me all that much anyway –”

“Wait,” Keith said unsteadily, panicking, “wait, what? What are you –”

Lance’s mouth twisted and he sounded even more in pain than he had earlier. “I know,” he whispered. “You think I’m annoying and immature and an all-around jerk and you’re probably right, but I’m the jerk who fell in love with you.”

“Wait,” Keith said again, words coming out in a rush. “Lance. I’m in love with you, too.”

Lance’s eyes flew open. “What? You – Keith, stop it, that’s not funny – you can’t just say that because I’m dying and you don’t want to hurt my feelings –”

“No,” Keith gasped, cupping his head in both hands, “no, Lance, I love you, _I love you_.”

Lance gawked at him. “Really? But – I thought you didn’t want a thing-thing anymore; we didn’t go on dates, not really – that one creepy space bar doesn’t count –”

“We never had time to!” Keith exclaimed. “Fuck. I want a thing-thing. I want to take you on a date. I want to take you on a thousand dates. Lance. _Lance_. I never – you thought I was just using you for sex?”

Lance’s hands flailed a little. “Well, I didn’t think you loved me, Jesus, Keith!” And then he made a choked, gurgling sound, and more blood trickled from his mouth, and Keith cursed, holding him closer. Lance turned his face into Keith’s jacket. “You love me,” he murmured, voice muffled in the fabric. “You love me.”

“Yes,” Keith told him, bowing his head over Lance’s, hiding kisses in his hair. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Wow,” Lance breathed, awed, and then he went limp. 

“No, no, no,” Keith pleaded, shaking him, “Lance, no, wake up, wake up –”

But Lance didn’t move, eyes shut and blood drying on his chin. Frantic, Keith pressed his fingers to the side of his neck, feeling for his pulse. At first there was nothing, but then he pressed harder and _there_ , a slow, fragile thud against his fingertips, faint but still beating, for now. Unconscious, not dead. Yet.

Then Keith froze, ears twitching.

There were footsteps coming towards them. Many footsteps, and Keith could not figure out who it was, unable to pick out any individual scents over the thick smell of blood and the scent of his mate, which he clung to, cradling Lance’s head in his arms and staring at the still-locked doors, teeth bared.

The footsteps grew louder, and then he saw a green suit and a black one, and behind them was Silese and her sisters and Keith honed in on them with mounting wrath – this was their fault, they were traitors, selfish traitors; and if they hadn’t been cowards incapable of saving their own skins then Lance would be safe.

The doors opened and Keith hunched over Lance, growling, furious eyes fixed on Silese. He was torn between staying with his mate and ripping her to shreds where she stood, claws flexing as he weighed his options.

Then the black suit stepped forward, over the threshold, into the room. Keith’s gaze flicked to him. Shiro. It took a moment for him to remember the name, and even when he did there was a disconnect – Keith was vaguely aware that Shiro was an ally, more than that, a friend; but he was also large and strong and armed and that made him a threat. Keith growled louder, hand going to his bayard, claws clicking loudly against the metal.

“Paladin, be careful!” Silese said from the door. “If his mate is dead, he will be half-mad with grief and a danger to us all –” 

Shiro shook his head slightly. “Keith wouldn’t hurt me,” he said, continuing to approach. “He’s no monster.”

Silese gulped but inclined her head, staying back with the others. 

“Is that a…a decapitated _head_?” one of the Sylphe sisters said faintly. There was a chorus of horrified sounds. Keith barely heard them, blood roaring loudly in his ears.

Shiro was getting too close. Keith stood abruptly, shifting into a defensive stance in front of Lance, bayard pointed in warning. Shiro paused mid-step, and then raised his hands, palms up. Keith eyed him, suspicious and on edge, narrowing his eyes at the Galra arm. It was a weapon, and it could kill his mate in an instant. He glared at it.

Shiro sighed and lowered the Galra arm. “Keith. Listen to me. Please.” He spoke in the tone one would use when speaking to a spooked animal, and yet Keith found himself responding, blinking away the haze of fear and anger bit by bit. “Is Lance dead?” he asked, and Keith bristled again.

“No,” he snarled. “No, but I won’t let you hurt him any more –”

Shiro exhaled. “We aren’t here to hurt him, Keith. There’s a doctor aboard the ship – she can help him. She can save him. Let us save him.” He took another step closer. “You just need to let us near him. Nobody else needs to get hurt.” Another step.

“Don’t touch him!” Keith cried, voice breaking. His hand shook, bayard wobbling with it. “Don’t –”

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro whispered, and then he closed the distance between them and his arms were around Keith, and Keith was still holding his bayard and Silese shouted at Shiro to be careful again but Keith shuddered in his arms and let go of the weapon with a sob, swaying as Shiro hugged him tightly. “Shhh,” Shiro said, and Keith clung to him, finding comfort in his embrace, because although it was not his mate’s, it was familiar and warm and safe. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Then a terrible, heartrending cry echoed through the room and Shiro pulled away and Keith saw a yellow suit in the doorway, stumbling towards them, and his ears pinned back, not in anger but in remorse. 

“Lance?” Hunk said, voice wobbling, staring at the spear and the pool of blood and Lance’s still, pale face. He looked at Shiro and then at Keith, eyes wild with anguish and confusion. “Is…is he…?”

“Not yet,” Shiro replied grimly. He turned to the door. “Silese, it’s safe. Send her over.”

A slight Sylphe girl with turquoise hair slipped from the ranks and hurried over with an overflowing medical bag in tow, and Keith let Shiro nudge him far enough away so that she could examine Lance and begin to bandage around the spear to lessen the blood loss. Hunk knelt down beside Lance.

Shiro squeezed Keith’s arm. “You should talk to him,” he murmured. “He loves Lance as much as you do.” And before Keith could protest, Shiro walked to where Pidge was still standing with the others to go get a stretcher. 

Keith walked to Hunk, his body feeling strangely heavy, and knelt next to him. Hunk didn’t look up, staring down at Lance’s hand, which was folded up between his own palms. “What happened?” Hunk asked dully. “Did he do something brave and stupid?”

Keith bowed his head. “Yeah,” he said. “He tackled a Galra soldier.”

“Idiot,” Hunk said, choked. “I…I knew something like this would happen eventually.” He sniffled. 

Keith did not know what to do. He looked down at Lance, his chest aching with a phantom pain. “I killed them,” he said. “The ones who did this to him are dead.”

Hunk was quiet, then he nodded, jaw set. “Good,” he said. 

They stayed there together with him until the stretcher came, and Keith fussed as Lance was painstakingly loaded onto it, Hunk almost cried when the doctor said he had lost a lot of blood, Pidge told him that Lance was lucky his hepatic artery wasn’t severed or he would be toast, and Shiro returned to the Castle of Lions to give Allura the news. They couldn’t put Lance in a healing pod because the Sylphaen doctor, Enna, declared that the spear could not be removed until they reached Everren, where Lance could receive proper medical attention.

“You’re just going to leave it there?” Hunk demanded, eying the spear with horror. 

Enna was strapping Lance down to the patient’s cot to ensure he wouldn’t move around too much when the ship started moving, and secured the IV pole as an afterthought. 

“Yes,” she said sharply when she was done, turning back to them. “If you are ever stabbed, you should not remove the blade until you can be treated. Currently, the spear is acting as a plug to the wound – a leaky plug, but a plug nonetheless. If I were to remove it, your friend would likely bleed out, or more internal damage would be done.”

“Internal damage?” Keith echoed in a small voice, sitting beside the cot with his knees folded up to his chest. 

Enna nodded. “He was coughing up blood. It is likely his stomach was lacerated or in the very least received trauma from the blow.”

“His stomach’s not, um, a totally vital organ though. Right?” Hunk asked hopefully. 

Enna folded her arms. “The stomach is full of bile which would poison the rest of his system.” Hunk blanched. “Alternately, if the spear went through his intestines, he could die from septic shock. It is safe to say it did not pierce his liver, or he would be dead already. But that still leaves the spleen, pancreas, gallbladder, and ampulae.”

Hunk and Keith looked at her blankly. 

Pidge, from the corner, piped up helpfully. “Humans don’t have ampulae.”

Enna frowned. “Hm. How odd. I have never treated a human before, so this is a learning experience.”

“You’ve _what_?!” Keith and Hunk exclaimed in unison. 

“Lower your strident voices,” Enna retorted, tail lashing irritably behind her as she stalked across the room to get more bandages and what looked like a jar of green pills. “When we reach Everren the court physician will take over, and he has more experience with your kind than I do. However, rest assured I know how to keep him alive until then.”

Keith exhaled, trying to stay calm, looking again at Lance’s face. It seemed wrong to see him so still and quiet, motionless save for the halting, barely perceptible rise and fall of his bare chest. They’d cut his shirt and jacket off – his treasured jacket, which was now more red than green, stuffed into some trash chute in shreds. It was strange to think that Lance would never wear it again – even if it was just a jacket, it had been a constant, something familiar in their volatile world. It was just so surreal, especially the spear, protruding from Lance’s stomach unnaturally, surrounded by white bandages, stark against his brown skin. Keith shivered. _You love me._

Perhaps Enna noticed his barely-contained anguish, because her tone softened. “It is admirable that you regained control of yourself and allowed us to tend to your mate, Red Paladin. I have seen far different, far worse scenes play out. Say what you will of Galra, but they are fiercely devoted to their mates. But in the end it was your human side that saved him.”

And with that casually profound declaration, Enna left the room.

Pidge watched her go with interest. “I like her,” they said. 

Hunk sighed, head in his hands. “I’ll like her as long as she keeps Lance alive.”

Pidge sobered. “It could’ve been way worse,” they offered. “The spear tip could have been barbed, or poisoned, or it could’ve gone through his chest instead, or his head –”

“Pidge,” Keith gritted out, “you are not helping.”

“Neither are you!” Pidge retorted defensively. “At least I didn’t almost attack Shiro.”

Hunk glanced at Keith, alarmed. “You did _what_?”

“I didn’t –” Keith sucked in a breath and turned away. “You don’t know what it was like. When Lance got stabbed, I. I felt it. And before that, when Haggar electrocuted him with her magic, I felt that too. Everything is so…so tangled. I can still feel him, his mind, right now, like a constant presence in my head. And if he…if he died, I think I would feel that too.”

“The telepathic bond,” Pidge murmured, leaning forwards with horrified fascination. 

“The _what_ now?” Hunk yelped. “You have a telepathic bond with Lance? Dude! Since when has your dick been Professor X?”

“Since they mated,” Pidge replied matter-of-factly. “His dick released a Galra hormone in Lance that essentially mind-melded them.”

Keith made a face. “Stop talking about my dick.”

Hunk shrugged. “Lance already told me all about it. It’s cool.”

Keith turned red, and whirled on Lance to yell at him, but of course Lance was still unmoving and unconscious and the gravity of the situation sank down on them again. Keith slumped back against the wall, lump in his throat.

Pidge cleared their throat. “So, anyway, what you’re saying is that after Haggar escaped, when Shiro and I got there with the Sylphe, you weren’t totally lucid?”

Keith didn’t meet their eyes. “I wasn’t,” he said. “Before you got there…one of the Galra soldiers tried to finish Lance off. I blacked out. I…I went into the blood fever state.”

“Keith –”

“Don’t,” Keith said harshly. “If any of you had been there, I would have attacked you too. If Shiro had tried to approach me then, I would have torn his throat out if he hadn’t killed me first.” It was the truth, and by the shock on their faces they heard the brutal honesty in his tone. Keith looked away again. “I think maybe I should leave Voltron,” he said.

“No,” Hunk and Pidge said in unison, equally firm. 

Keith looked up, eyes narrowing. “I’m a danger to the team,” he said, slowly, in case they somehow didn’t understand. “This is just like the Garrison – I got kicked out because my Galra side got the best of me and I got angry and people got hurt. I had to get away from that and I did; I can do it again. Red’s been jumpy around me anyway. You should find another pilot for her, one who isn’t like me.”

“Like you?” Pidge echoed. “You mean, the best pilot in the galaxy?”

Keith frowned. “Shiro’s better.”

“No, he isn’t,” Hunk said. “He knows it, too. We need you, Keith. Even if you weren’t a great pilot, you’re part of the team, and this doesn’t change that. You keep going on about how dangerous you are to us, but you saved Lance’s life. Didn’t you?” Keith opened his mouth, then closed it. He had, technically, though he wasn’t sure his method of blood-fever-beheading was very heroic or redeeming.

“Right,” Pidge said, nodding, “so you’re half-Galra, and it’s a little freaky sometimes, but you can use that for the team, not against it. Not just in battle, either. Remember how those prisoners we freed a couple cycles ago reacted when they saw you standing with us? They saw a Galra, one of their enemies. But you aren’t their enemy, and they saw that when you helped us save them. You’re proof that even some Galras see how evil Zarkon is and want to stop him.”

Keith considered that. “You…you think so?”

Hunk nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! You’re like, uh, a sheep in wolf’s clothing?” Keith wrinkled his nose. “What I mean is you look like a Galra sometimes and you but you’re just as human as the rest of us. There might’ve been some close calls, but so far you haven’t hurt any of us, even Lance.”

“I would never hurt Lance,” Keith said automatically.

“Exactly,” Pidge said. “So redirect that attitude to the rest of the team.”

Keith’s brow furrowed. “How?”

“Why didn’t you attack Shiro?” Pidge countered. 

“He’s…he’s my friend,” Keith said. He hesitated. “He’s like family.” He bit his lip. “You guys all are.”

Hunk and Pidge smiled. From the cot, Lance made a soft sound, and everyone looked at him with baited breath. But he didn’t awake, and they all deflated slowly.  


“It wasn’t really me who saved Lance,” Keith told them after a glum pause. “Lance was the one who radioed you, Pidge. If he hadn’t distracted Haggar, Lance and I would both be dead.”

“Neither of you are dead,” Hunk insisted. “He’s not dead.”

No, but he looked dead, and Keith could feel exactly how weak he was, though he didn’t say it. How could he possibly tell Lance’s best friend that every beat of Lance’s heart felt like a string stretched too thin, too tight, liable to break at any moment? 

Lance looked and felt fragile and weak, yet Keith knew Lance was anything but. If he was as weak as Haggar had said, he would not have survived this. Lance was strong. Lance was stubborn, too. If anyone could cheat death simply by willing themselves not to die, it would be Lance. Keith told Hunk that, and the three of them laughed, but it was sad and small like the half-smile on Lance’s unmoving face.

The ship had started moving at some point. Keith didn’t know how long they stayed there with Lance – time blurred, muddled by the ache in Keith’s chest and head and the silence of the other paladins. But the silence made it easier to focus on the new, unsettling feeling of Lance’s mind overlapping Keith’s – or at least he thought it was Lance’s mind, or his awareness, or soul, or…Keith tried not to overthink it. In any case, it was a presence. He settled on calling it that.

Lance’s presence in Keith’s head was as muddled as the passage of time, a shifting miasma of what could be sadness or pain or just darkness, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Still, it was something, and Keith preferred that to the void that Lance’s death would supposedly leave in its wake. 

Sometimes, the darkness seemed to ebb, rising and falling like the tides, and something would spark, brief and bright, before fizzling out. Keith counted those sparks, and though he knew they were little more than firing synapses, to him they were proof that Lance was still in there, still Lance. 

The ship docked and it was a surprise to them all, a jolt that made them jump, except for Lance, who remained unresponsive. Keith didn’t know much about unconsciousness, but he didn’t think it was normal for someone to be out for so long. Spark. Fizzle. Spark. Lance’s body was as limp as a doll’s when the Sylphe loaded him onto what looked like a gurney, wheeling him out through the halls of the ship and into the bright sunlight of Everren. 

They had landed in the Viridian Palace’s main ship bay, and a crowd had gathered. Keith stayed close to the gurney in some failed attempt to shield Lance from the Sylphaens’ curious stares. The number of doctors seemed to have multiplied, and they were all talking, not in the Common tongue but in their own language, which consisted of clicks and chirps and garbled noises that gave Keith an even bigger headache.

His headache was not eased one bit by the appearance of Princess Silese, who took one look at his bared teeth and hurried off to the front of the procession, where she met none other than Empress Velline, who had hurried out to meet them in full panoply with guards in tow. 

They spoke in hushed tones, and were joined by who looked like the head doctor and spoke some more, and then Velline approached Keith, her expression grim.

“Paladin,” she greeted. “It is a shame we must meet again under such unfortunate circumstances.”

“We didn’t come here to talk,” Keith growled. Velline’s guards eyed him warily. Hunk and Pidge wavered awkwardly alongside him.

“I know, Paladin,” Velline sighed. “Your mate will be treated, but firstly the spear must be removed. You cannot be present during the surgery.”

Keith bristled. “I’m not _leaving_ him –”

“You must, for the physicians’ sakes and your own. If something goes wrong during the procedure –”

“No!” Keith snapped. “You said you could save him!”

“There is always a risk,” the court physician cut in. “Especially with wounds of this extent. Even with our advanced technology there is a, how do you say, fifty-fifty chance of death.”

“If you let him die, I will _kill you_ –”

“Keith.” Shiro’s hand was suddenly on his arm, which he had raised as if to strike a blow, claws extended. Keith let them retract, with difficulty. “There will be no more killing. Empress, we thank you for your hospitality and understanding in this situation.” 

Keith snarled. “It’s her own daughter’s fault that this happened in the first place; she better be hospitable –”

Allura stepped forward; behind her Keith saw the Castle of Lions had docked alongside Silese’s ship. Her voice was steely, unyielding and sharp like her cool gaze. “Empress, he is correct. Your eldest daughter betrayed us to the witch Haggar and we very nearly lost two Lions and Paladins as a result. The Blue Paladin’s survival is not up for debate. Fifty-fifty is not acceptable. You _will_ ensure that he lives, or I must insist that we take Princess Silese’s punishment into our own hands.” Her eyes narrowed. “And believe me when I say we will not be lenient.”

Velline held Allura’s gaze. “I understand. You have my assurance that the Blue Paladin will be given the best care we have to offer. But I must still ask that his mate be separated from him for the duration of the procedure, for the safety of my subjects.”

Allura inclined her head. “If you think that is for the best.”

Keith’s wrist twitched in Shiro’s hand, desperate. “ _No_ –”

“Keith, it’s time to go,” Shiro murmured, pulling him away from Lance. “You’ll see him in a few hours, I promise.”

Keith snarled at him, claws digging into Shiro’s human arm and scrabbling against his metal one. The doctors were carrying Lance away, and every fiber of Keith’s being rebelled against the thought of leaving him, his mate, with these strangers in a strange place. But Shiro’s grip on him was as unyielding as Allura’s gaze, and when Lance was taken around the corner and out of sight, he surrendered, slumping against Shiro’s chest. 

There were strange voices and scents all around him, confusing and overwhelming, and he had to close his eyes, a whine slipping from his throat. Shiro’s hand settled on his back, rubbing calmingly. “I know,” he said. “I know, I know, shh.”

Keith blindly let himself be half-dragged off into the palace. He didn’t know where they were going, only that it was away from Lance, and Lance might die, and Keith wasn’t going to be there for him. Keith was only vaguely aware of the tears falling from his eyes, and of Shiro brushing them away with gentle fingers. 

“We’re here for you,” Shiro told him, and Keith knew he was right, because he felt Hunk’s hand on his shoulder and heard Pidge’s quick footsteps close by and sensed Allura’s concern for him, under the waves of fear and anger radiating off of her. Keith shivered, and nodded, and sank to the ground gratefully when they reached their apparent destination. 

It took a moment, but then the muddled scents resolved themselves and Keith’s eyes snapped open and he realized that he’d been brought to the same room he’d stayed in the last time they’d visited the Viridian Palace. This was where he had mated Lance. His gaze rested on the bed, and he made a wounded sound, head dropping down at the painful flood of memories. The others lingered in the doorway, uncertain, but Shiro knelt with him on the ground. 

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

Keith looked at him, with difficulty, through a haze of tears. “I’m afraid,” he admitted in a whisper, raw and painfully intimate. “I’m so fucking afraid, Shiro.”

“It’s alright, it’s going to be alright,” Shiro soothed, and wrapped an arm around him, and nodded at the others, and slowly, they came into the room and sat with Keith, on the floor like a bunch of schoolchildren, and before he knew it he was enveloped in the biggest hug of his life. 

He tried to object, to tell them that it wasn’t safe, that if something went wrong Velline was unfortunately right – he might hurt them. But they shushed him and stayed, and he didn’t want them to leave anyway, so he tried to quiet the panic buzzing in his head and prayed to whoever was listening that when he saw Lance again, it wouldn’t be in a morgue. Shiro’s arm was firm and anchoring around his shoulders and Hunk’s chest was a comfortable warmth against his back and Pidge’s head was soft under his chin and Allura’s hands held his own tightly as she murmured words he did not know – an Altean prayer, Shiro whispered in his ear. 

Keith bowed his head and let the words wash over him, trying to find the meaning in them, and listening to the way Allura’s commanding voice trembled in a way he had never heard before. Keith’s shirt was wet where Pidge’s face was pressed to it, and Hunk’s body shook with silent, barely-concealed sobs. Even Shiro’s eyes were damp, shining with unshed sorrow. 

They were all hurting, Keith knew. He could feel their pain, and though it was not like his connection to Lance it was still a connection and he wondered if this was what having a family was like. Crying together, and hoping together, and staying together. It was a fragile little family, but it felt more real and special than any of his foster homes had. 

Allura finished praying, and Hunk started talking. He told stories, stories about Lance, about their time at the Garrison and before that. Everyone listened, torn between smiling and sobbing. 

“Lance is so good with kids,” he rambled, constantly sounding on the verge of tears but determined to share the memories anyway. “He would sing to his younger siblings, y’know, silly songs he made up, to get them excited about doing chores or going to school. I went to his house for Christmas a couple times and the kids were always all over him, giving him crayon drawings and stuff they found on the ground like bottle caps and candy wrappers, and he’d accept every gift like they’d just given him a million bucks.”

“He had a photo of his youngest sister Stella on his nightstand at the Garrison,” Pidge chimed in, voice muffled in Keith’s jacket. “He’d blow a kiss to her every night.” Pidge sniffed. “It was so dumb.”

Keith swallowed back more tears. “I didn’t know that,” he whispered. “I…I don’t even know that much about him.”

“But what _do_ you know about him?” Shiro prompted. 

Keith blinked. “I – he never told me much about his family, his life back on Earth –”

“Not that stuff,” Hunk mumbled. “Stuff that makes you love him.”

Keith had to suck in a breath, wiping a hand across his eyes. “I…” He exhaled. “After he got stabbed, he apologized for falling in love with me,” he said. “And…and even when I told him I loved him back, he didn’t believe me. Who…who even does that?” Keith huffed, starting to cry again, but, like Hunk, needing to share the words with them. 

“He calls me ‘bat boy’ as a pet name, and he says my Galra form is cute even though I hate it. He freaks out whenever he wakes up to my eyes glowing in the dark. He’s obsessed with hygiene and brushes his teeth three times a day. His soap smells like fruit. He has freckles everywhere. He likes to kiss the tip of my nose. He likes to be the little spoon even though he’s taller. He’s way better at couple stuff than I am.” Keith shuddered, turning his face into Shiro’s shoulder. “He…he looks at me like nobody’s ever looked at me before.” Keith’s breaths came shuddering and shaky. “I want him to look at me that way again,” he confessed, voice breaking. Shiro’s arm tightened around him and his shiny eyes spilled over. 

Everyone else started crying too, and for a long time, all they did was cry – the kind of crying that soaks you with exhaustion and shakes you to your very core, until you just run out of tears altogether, and your body can’t cry anymore and you’re too tired to be too sad. 

It was then, when they were huddled together in drained, tearstained silence, that one of the doctors opened the door and told them the procedure was over. They stared at her with wide eyes. “And?” Allura demanded, hastily getting to her feet. “How is he?”

The doctor eyed them with no small amount of trepidation. “The spear was removed with minor complications – there was a great deal of bleeding but most of the damage was done to abdominal tissue, not his organs, save for a few abrasions and tears that occurred upon extraction –”

Hunk winced. Allura held up a hand. “Enough. Is he alive?”

She blinked. “Ah…yes. He is stable, for now.” They all sighed in relief. The doctor bit her lip. “But…”

Keith stood, along with Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge. “What do you mean, ‘but’?”

“He is in a coma.” Shiro steadied Keith as he swayed slightly. The doctor gave them an apologetic look. “Your friend went into hypovolemic shock and was on the verge of heart failure. He lost over forty percent of his blood volume.”

“Jesus,” Pidge whispered. 

“He was briefly conscious,” the doctor added. “All he managed to say was his mate’s name before slipping into the coma.”

“So…so he remembers me; his brain is functioning normally?” Keith asked, heart pounding.

He did not like the expression on her face. “At this point in time…we cannot say for certain what brain damage might have been done –”

“What do you mean?!” Hunk exclaimed. “His _brain_ didn’t get stabbed!”

“As I said,” she continued, “he lost almost too much blood. Depending on whether or not blood flow to the brain was affected, he could have sustained damage which could lead to a variety of outcomes ranging from temporary amnesia to brain death.” At their looks of horror, she added quickly, “But we will not know until he wakes up, so it is best not to jump to conclusions.”

“When will he wake up?” Keith asked quietly.

“It could be days, or weeks, or years,” the doctor admitted. “It is impossible to know for certain with these things.”

Keith heard Allura’s sharp intake of breath. They did not have years to spare. Keith didn’t want to think about leaving Lance behind. He wasn’t even sure if he could. Keith stepped forward. “Can…can we see him?”

She nodded. “He is in the private royal ward. I can escort you to him, if you wish.”

“Yes,” they all said in shaky unison. “Yes.”

*

Empress Velline had certainly kept her promise to give Lance the best care possible – the room Lance had been given was large and lavish, fit for a king, complete with a full wall of windows and a balcony. Unfortunately, Lance could hardly appreciate it from inside the healing pod in the center of the room. He was surrounded by beeping monitors and colorful displays, one of which was a full body scan of his vitals, and though Keith had never had the desire to see Lance’s insides, it was strangely mesmerizing to watch the animation of his heart beat and the blood flow in red and blue lines through him. 

Hunk didn’t seem to think so, though, because he paled and stumbled back at the sight. Lance had been in a healing pod before, but not in such a critical state. Keith could see the dark circles under his eyes and the bandages covering his abdomen, so numerous that his bare skin was almost entirely hidden. The wound beneath it was stitched shut, and Keith had no doubt that the scarring would be…heavy.

Hunk put a hand over his mouth. “Are you sure he’s…he looks dead,” Hunk gasped.

“He is alive,” said a voice from the doorway. “Though I know it should be me in that pod and not your friend.”

Keith whirled, growling, to face Princess Silese. He faltered when he saw her, though – gone was her regal pilot’s uniform and all of her golden jewelry and even her crown. She wore a simple dark dress and her curly hair was frizzed and messy, as if she had run her fingers through it over and over again. Keith frowned at her, folding his arms and making sure to keep himself between Silese and Lance. “Why are you here?” he demanded. “This is your fault. Look at him. Look at what you did.”

“Keith,” Shiro warned. 

But Silese shook her head. “You have every right to be upset with me,” she replied. “I do not ask for your forgiveness, only for your understanding. My sisters were put in danger, and Haggar issued me an ultimatum – their lives or yours. I could not think. I knew it was wrong, to betray you – you are all good people, innocent people. But so are my sisters, and I could not even consider the thought of letting them die.” 

“So you made a deal with a Galra witch?” Keith snapped. “You’re a fool to think she would ever honor your terms.”

“I know,” Silese agreed, and he balked again, nonplussed by her lack of confrontation. “I am not proud of it. But she would have killed my sisters on the spot if I had refused – I am certain of that. Still, I could have tried to warn you and your mate beforehand, or perhaps tried to trick Haggar…but as I said, I could not think. So I endangered your lives instead, and for that I am forever sorry.” She looked to Allura, who was watching the exchange with a thoughtful frown. “So I am here to submit myself to your judgment, whatever it might be.” 

Allura’s lips parted in bewilderment. “But…the Blue Paladin lives. The agreement the Empress and I made was –”

“My mother does not know I am here,” Silese said with a wry smile. “She does not know how great my guilt is. Just because your friend lives does not mean my wrongs are erased.”

“You’re here,” Keith said slowly, disbelievingly, “to be punished for those wrongs?”

“Yes,” she said. “Pass your judgment.”

Allura hesitated. “Keith…do you have any reasonable suggestions? Execution is not an option.”

Keith’s brow furrowed. “I don’t want her death,” he said. “I just want her to pay for what she’s done somehow.”

Pidge brightened up. “What about that waystation? Haggar fled back to the main Galra base so it’s actually abandoned now. You could help us get data from that station, and others.”

“That’s a good idea,” Shiro agreed. “Instead of serving time inside a cell, you would be helping us in the fight against Zarkon.”

“Without your sisters,” Hunk added. 

Silese looked at Keith. “He is your mate,” she said. “You should be the one to pass judgment.”

Keith folded his arms. “Lance wouldn’t want you to suffer,” he gritted out. “He always was better at the mercy thing than I am.” He exhaled unevenly. “But…I know you were trying to protect your family. And it would be more useful to us if you were out in the field instead of prison.”

“It is decided then,” Allura said, pleased. “Princess Silese, you will search the galaxy for Galra intel with a new crew for a year, staying in frequent contact with us and sharing everything you find with us. You will be an active ally to Voltron, and serve us to the best of your ability. Objections?”

Silese shook her head. “That is…a far fairer sentence than I expected. I thank you, and promise to uphold your conditions.” She turned towards Keith. “Again…I know it does not make up for what has been done, but you have my deepest condolences. And if your mate does not survive…I will continue to serve Voltron for the rest of my life. You have my word, and I will never break that word again.”

Keith regarded her with narrowed eyes, then nodded, grudgingly. “I will hold you to that,” he said. “But if Lance does die…I suggest you start running. I cannot promise that I will uphold our agreement then.”

“I understand,” Silese said grimly. “Thank you for the warning.” 

She nodded to them and left, and Keith let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Shiro patted his shoulder. “That went better than expected,” he remarked.  


“Yeah,” Keith muttered. “I’m too tired to attack anyone right now.”

“Do you want to sleep here?” Shiro asked. “I can go find some blankets and pillows.”

“I’m gonna stay too,” Hunk declared, laying his hand over Lance’s pod and looking down at his blank face. 

“Me three,” Pidge said, making a beeline for the small sofa in the corner. 

Allura bit her lip. “I will inform Coran we will be staying for…an indefinite period of time. Goodnight, paladins.”

Shiro left to find bedding. Pidge claimed the sofa. Hunk stared wistfully at Lance. Keith stood unsurely off to the side and looked out the windows. 

“It looks like rain,” he said lamely. 

“Probably,” Pidge replied from their sofa. “It’s Everren’s monsoon season.”

“Does it rain water here, or is it like that scary planet that rained sulfuric acid and diamonds?” Hunk asked.

“Water,” Pidge said, yawning. “Just water.”

“Maybe Lance will wake up when it starts raining,” Hunk suggested. “Man, that would be awesome."

“Yeah,” Keith said. “It would be.”

*

But the rain fell, in a torrential downpour that swept through the jungle and thundered against the palace walls, and Lance did not wake up.

*

Pidge left after the third night. Hunk stayed a whole week before reluctantly admitting that the floor was hurting his neck, and promised to visit every day. 

Keith didn’t think it was physically possible for him to leave. In Hunk and Pidge’s absence he had created a sort of nest next to Lance’s pod, a large pile of pillows and sheets and blankets which he burrowed into at night and lay curled in miserably during the day, in between pacing the length of the room and staring at Lance’s monitors, scrutinizing them for some miniscule change. But there was no change. 

The doctors who filed in and out of the room gave Keith a wide berth, and answered his questions in clipped, unhelpful answers. He soon realized that they we just as uncertain about Lance’s condition as he was – all they knew was that Lance’s body was healing, but his mind remained unresponsive. 

Keith imagined Lance waking up and remembering nothing, or worse, waking up and not being Lance anymore. Keith had nightmares about Lance gazing at him blankly, expressionless and thoughtless. He would wake up gasping and sweating, tangled in the blankets, and would stand with his palms on the pod and beg Lance to wake up already, please, please, _please_.

Shiro and Hunk brought him food since he refused to leave even to eat, and he left the plates beside the door mostly untouched. He felt bad about it, but he just didn’t have an appetite. It wasn’t that he felt nauseous, not like how he’d felt when he and Lance were separated during his heat – he just felt…hollow. Drained, like he barely had enough energy to lift the food to his lips, much less eat it. Keith knew he should probably be training too, but that was out of the question in his current state.  


On the third night of the second week, Shiro came into the room with his usual tray of food and sat down next to Keith.

“Hey,” he said.

Keith raised his head listlessly from the pillows. “I’m not hungry,” he said.

Shiro clicked his tongue disapprovingly and poked Keith’s cheekbone. “You’re gaunt,” Shiro told him. “You need to eat.”

Keith scowled. “Can’t,” he said. “Too tired.”

“You’re tired because you’re not eating,” Shiro pressed, but when Keith just grunted and ignored him, he sighed and gave up, setting the tray aside. “I didn’t just come to nag you. I wanted to ask how you’re feeling.”

“I feel great,” Keith deadpanned. “Totally fine.”

“Keith.” Shiro peered down at him. “I mean…how do you _feel_? Coran said your heat should start today.”

“Oh,” Keith said, flushing, and frowning. “I don’t feel…like that. I…I don’t feel like anything, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything’s just…” Keith flopped his arms against the pillows. “Empty.” He stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to do anything except lay here.”

Shiro was quiet. Then he said, “Mind if I join you?”

Keith shrugged. Shiro lay down next to him, twisting slightly to fit his larger body into the nest of bedding. He was very warm. Keith kept staring at the ceiling. “This place reminds me of the Garrison,” he said.

Shiro turned his head, expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Keith murmured. “All these white walls and people in uniforms. And you.”

Shiro exhaled. “Keith…”

“The last time I felt like this was when I heard the news about the Kerberos Mission,” Keith told him. “Like nothing mattered anymore.” His mouth twisted. “I got kicked out of the academy right after that. But I didn’t care. How could I care about something like that, when you were…were…”

“Keith, stop,” Shiro whispered, rolling onto his side and touching Keith’s face. “Stop. Remember what I said about beating yourself up for no reason?”

“I missed you,” Keith whispered back. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“I’m here,” Shiro murmured. “I’m okay, and I’m here.”

“Are you?” Keith asked. “Okay?” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they were golden Galra eyes, and Shiro’s jaw tightened, metal hand twitching involuntarily. Keith drew back, disappointed but resigned. “I know it’s hard for you to look at me when I look like them. I’m sorry –”

“Wait,” Shiro breathed, reaching out again, metal hand curling gently around Keith’s arm. “That’s not – you aren’t them. I know that, Keith. What they did to me – that’s not your fault. And it was you who rescued me from the Garrison afterwards. You were there for me when I needed you.” Shiro smiled softly. “Let me be there for you, too.”

Keith stared up at him, helpless. He was so used to loneliness. He was so accustomed to only relying on himself. Keith had always fought his own battles. He had never thought he would find someone willing to fight beside him.

Shiro brushed his hair back from his face. “Hey. Talk to me. How can I help?” 

“Stay with me,” Keith said, the words slipping out against his own volition, soft and desperate. “Just for tonight. I…I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Shiro told him firmly, and he pulled one of the blankets over them. “Not anymore.”

Keith nodded and closed his eyes, shuffling closer to Shiro’s warmth. “I miss him,” he said. “I miss him like I missed you, but different, too. With you, it was…I was angry. I couldn’t believe how unfair the universe was, to let something like that happen.” He shuddered, remembering fights, fists flying and a bloodied lip, bruises littering his skin for weeks afterwards. “But with him, it’s…quieter. Sadder. I was angry at first, but now it’s just…”

“Empty,” Shiro finished.

Keith nodded. “Tell me honestly,” he said, “do you think Lance is going to make it?”

“He’s made it this far, hasn’t he?” Keith frowned. Shiro sighed. “I don’t know, Keith. All I know is that as long as he has the will to pull through, he has a chance. And I’ve never known anyone quite as willful as Lance, except for maybe you.”

Keith laughed, but it was short and choked. “The one thing he and I have in common.”

“That’s not true,” Shiro argued. “You and Lance are similar in a lot of ways. Different, too, but not as different as you might think.”

Keith considered that. His fingers curled against Shiro’s shirt. “Lance is a lot more romantic than I am.” Shiro’s amused grin was bright in the darkness. Keith shoved him. “I’m serious. It’s a problem. I am the worst boyfriend.”

“You can’t be that bad,” Shiro chuckled. “Judging from the noises coming from your room –”

“Stop!” Keith yelped, mortified. “Not what I meant! I mean dates and flowers and chocolate and…and couple things!”

“A little difficult to find in space,” Shiro pointed out. Keith huffed and Shiro patted his back. “But I understand. And I don’t think that makes you the worst boyfriend. It’s just a learning experience – you’ve never been in a relationship before and you’re still figuring it out. That doesn’t make you the worst, Keith.”

Keith tried to believe him. “If he wakes up, I’m going to take him on the best date ever,” he vowed.

“When,” Shiro corrected. “When he wakes up.”

Keith sighed. The empty feeling had eased somewhat, as if it was shared between the two of them now, and he leaned into Shiro gratefully, feeling safe and sleepy in their blanket cocoon. “You’re really going to stay?” he asked after a few beats.

“’Course,” Shiro said. He smiled. “But only if you promise to eat breakfast in the morning.”

Keith snorted. “Maybe, if you’re a good cuddler.”

“I am the best cuddler,” Shiro exclaimed. “C’mere.” 

Keith tucked his head against Shiro’s chest, closed his eyes, and thought of happier times.

*

He did eat breakfast in the morning.

Lance did not wake up.

“Lance,” Keith said, leaning over him. “I love you. I love you. I miss you. We miss you. Wake up.”

Keith could’ve sworn the monitor of Lance’s brain flickered several times, but his face remained impassive, eyes shut tight.

*

The next night, Shiro did not stay with him, but Keith still slept deeply, better than he had in ages. 

He dreamed of a beach, a beach he had never been to before, and yet when he looked at the shore and the people waving on the white sand he knew with certainty that it was Varadero Beach. This wasn’t his dream. Keith watched as he – Lance – swam to shore, laughing and running to scoop a little girl up into his arms, hearing her squeal in delight. “Hermanote! Estoy volando!” _Big brother, I’m flying._

Keith knew very little Spanish, but the words resolved themselves naturally in his head, because it was Lance’s head, and he could understand everything, conversations blurring together all around him, endearments and exclamations thrown about through the air, loud and joyful.

Lance set the little girl down and ruffled her curly hair. “You wanna see something cool?”

The little girl – Stella – nodded enthusiastically, curls bouncing. Lance opened his curled fingers to reveal a beautiful shell in his palm, and her eyes went wide, chubby fingers touching its pearly pink surface with reverence. “So pretty,” she whispered.

Lance plopped it into her hand. “Just like you, hermanita.”

She squealed again, clutching the shell to her chest. “Thank you, thank you!” Stella dashed off across the sand, towards a tall woman under an umbrella and a man with sunglasses. “Mamá! Papá! Look what Lance found!”

Keith was overwhelmed by adoration and nostalgia that was not his own and then the dream changed, blurring at the edges and shifting into a new image. The Garrison – but not as Keith remembered it. Lance was…he was happy, laughing with Hunk and Pidge in their bunk beds. Lance was making fun of one of their teachers in a high, nasally voice while Pidge launched paper airplanes off the top bunk, aiming for Hunk’s head as he laughed and flailed his arms on the ground. 

The dreams changed, again and again, fragments of memories flashing past, bright and colorful – and then the color leeched out, fading into darkness, and the air was filled with panic and dread, and they were somewhere small, enclosed, dark – Lance hit one of the walls and called out for help, but nobody answered. His panic built, bitter and smothering, and then Keith heard water rushing and then felt it, filling the space coldly, inexorably. Lance screamed and pounded on the wall again, water up to his waist, and Keith tried to reach out to him, to hold him, to tell him it was only a dream – but he was just a visitor here, a bystander unable to do anything as Lance’s lungs filled with water and it closed over his head, drowning out his cries –

The cold darkness turned warm, freezing water replaced by hazy sunlight. As the scene focused, Keith’s heart skipped a beat. He was looking at himself, himself and Lance, sprawled out in his bed with sheets flung over them carelessly. Dust motes filtered through the sunbeams illuminating the bed, and both of them looked so peaceful, eyes half-lidded and mouths curved up in content smiles, arms flung over each other’s chests. Keith was surprised to see that Dream Keith was not fully human, skin mottled here and there with purple and Galra ears flicking when Lance pet them.

“Do you always have to touch them?” Dream Keith grumbled, swatting halfheartedly at Lance. “It tickles.” Lance pet them again and he twitched, nose scrunching up, a giggle falling from his lips. “Hey!”

“I love it when you laugh, bat boy,” Lance said earnestly, propping himself up on his elbows. “And when you smile. Like that.”

Dream Keith’s hand curved around the back of Lance’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “I love you,” he murmured. 

Lance gazed at him with such adoration that Real Keith was actually a little jealous. “I love you too,” he said. “So, so much.”

Then Dream Keith’s expression changed, brow lowering and eyes hardening. “Lance,” he said, voice taking on a strangely frantic tone. “I love you. I love you.”

Lance blinked, confused. “Keith, are you okay –”

“I miss you,” Dream Keith said, voice getting louder. 

Lance stared at him. “What – but I’m right here –”

“We miss you,” he said urgently, voice so loud it was almost painful. “Wake up!”

Keith jerked out of the dream and upright, disoriented, a faint impression of panic in his mind. 

“…Keith?”

His chest constricted. He stumbled to his feet. The healing pod was open. Lance was sitting up, staring at him. Keith stared back. “Lance,” he said, “ _Lance._ ”

Lance looked very confused, and made a startled sound when Keith lunged forward and hugged him fiercely. “Whoa!” Lance gasped. “Dios, am I dead? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

“No,” Keith said, on the verge of tears. “No, Lance, you’re alive, you’re _alive._ ”

“Oh,” Lance said, eyes widening, and he seemed to realize that he was still sitting in the pod and saw the bandages on his stomach and blanched. “Oh, shit. I really did get lanced.”

“Stop making puns,” Keith sobbed into his neck. “Just shut up and hug me back.”

Slowly, Lance did, hands trembling where they rested on Keith’s back. “What happened?” he whispered. Keith told him, in bits and pieces, and Lance shivered and clung to him the whole time. “Two weeks?” he echoed, shocked. “I…I was out for two weeks?”

“You were comatose,” Keith said. “They didn’t know if – they said you might not remember things when you woke up. That your brain might be…hurt.” 

Lance shook his head. “I remember,” he said, pulling back, cupping Keith’s face. “You said you loved me.”

“I do,” Keith said. “I love you, Lance.”

“How could you not?” Lance teased, but his voice cracked and he buried his face in Keith’s shoulder and then Keith lifted his head and they were kissing and –

Keith tore away with a disgusted noise. Two weeks’ worth of morning breath was too much. “Oh my god, you need a toothbrush,” he said. 

Lance stuck his tongue out. “I feel so loved,” he said, but he was smiling, wide and bright. Then his eyes lit up and he pointed to the windows and breathed, “ _Look_ ,” and Keith did and saw the thunderclouds rolling in, and with them the rain, washing over the land with a triumphant roar of white noise. 

Lance, heedless of his recently comatose state, tried to fling himself out of the healing pod. Keith managed to grab him before he injured himself any further, cautiously helping him across the room to the balcony. Keith had never actually been on the balcony, and he told Lance this, and Lance gave him an odd look and said, “Then what have you been doing?”

“Just…staying here,” Keith mumbled. “With you. I…I didn’t want to leave you.”

Lance blinked, and then he kissed Keith on the cheek, blushing darkly. “Thank you,” he said, biting his lip. His mouth quirked up. “Oh, and…Shiro’s right. You’re not the worst boyfriend at all.”

Keith gawked at him. “Wha – you heard that?”

Lance wiggled his eyebrows. “Still waiting for the best date ever, bat boy.”

Keith laughed and before Lance could protest he scooped him up in his arms, laughing harder when Lance flailed and squawked at him. “Consider this part one,” Keith informed him, and pushed open the balcony doors and set Lance down on the slippery balcony, rain pouring down around them and soaking their clothes, their hair, their skin. 

Any snarky remark Lance had about Keith picking him up was lost as he tipped his head towards the sky, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting as the raindrops rolled across his face and down his neck, turning his brown hair black as night and the bandages translucent. Keith looked at him, heart filled to bursting. He had never seen anything so beautiful. 

But he was proven wrong when Lance opened his eyes and looked at him, looked at Keith with the same adoration he had in the dream, and lifted a hand to his face, fingers spreading out over his jaw and cheekbone. “I love you too,” Lance said. His hand carded through Keith’s hair, pushing wet strands back from his face, both of them drenched and shivering but neither caring one bit. 

“I almost lost you,” Keith whispered, unable to look away from his eyes; his bright, open, alive eyes. 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to lose me, bat boy,” Lance retorted, stroking his hair like he couldn’t believe Keith was standing here with him, so in love with Lance he could barely speak.

“If you ever make me go through that again, I’ll kill you,” Keith warned, sniffling. “I swear.”

Lance stepped close, and took his hands, squeezing them firmly in his own. “I think I’ll stick around for a while,” he murmured. “See, I’m in love with this really hot guy who treats me like gold and I don’t wanna keep him hanging –”

Keith kissed him, two weeks’ worth of morning breath be damned. Lance smiled against his lips and kissed back, alive and happy and in his arms, and Keith knew he wasn’t alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish translations:  
> ¡Eres un comepinga! Pencatazo! Pelea conmigo! Aquí y ahora. ¡¡Vamos!! - You’re a dick-eater! Coward/Chicken (in Cuban slang)! Fight me! Here and now. Let’s go!  
> Cállate! - Shut up!  
> ¡Déjame en paz! - Leave me alone! (literally: Leave me in peace!)  
> Carajo - a general Cuban expletive, basically means fuck  
> Suéltame - let me go  
> Hermanita - little sister
> 
> also, Stella (Lance's lil sis) means 'star' in Latin bc PUNS. I think that's all of it, lmk if I missed something!


End file.
